


Rainbow

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2018484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock loves Jim. Jim kinda knew it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.
> 
> A/N: Drabble for deasuluna’s “Jim gets Empathy from a plant or something is having fun reading people's auras and moods but finds himself overwhelmed by Spock's emotions. You know vulcans don't feel or emote. ;) Cue Jim finding out that his own feelings are not just reciprocated but with thyla level depth.” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).

Jim leaves sickbay whistling, content in the knowledge that despite Bones’ bristly attitude, his aura is an affectionate one—further proof that their friendship is stronger than what the ‘simple country doctor’ might say otherwise.

An hour earlier, the natives on the planet below promised Jim profusely that their sacred plant was not only safe to eat, but one any honoured guest should ingest for the good of the tribe. Jim, always up for an adventure and one to explore new cultures regardless of Bones’ misgivings, stuffed the flower into his mouth. 

And now he can see the shining auras of every crewmember he passes, feel their emotions and bathe in their mood. He’s pleasantly surprised by the general resonance in his halls; most of the crewmembers he passes are happy, working hard, and professional. There’s a certain admiration he experiences from whoever he addresses, and one yeoman he smiles at bursts into a colourful joy; he’s well loved. 

By the time he reaches the turbolift, it’s almost a relief; so much appreciation can be stifling. When it lets out onto the bridge, he gets the usual acknowledgement and warmth from all his senior staff. He strolls to his chair with a nod to Uhura, who happens to be looking at him, and then a quick glance at Spock, who he fully expects to have no aura so to speak and carefully concealed emotions. 

Instead, he finds a dizzying array of _love_.

Jim stumbles at the platform of his chair, nearly falling into it. The adoration flowing out of Spock is palpable, and when Spock turns from his science station to eye Jim, the wave almost topples Jim over. Spock’s face is otherwise passive, perhaps momentarily concerned when Jim trips, righted when Jim’s righted. Nothing in his body language would give away the pulsating fondness around him, the bristling mass of attraction aimed right at Jim’s chest. For a moment, Jim stops breathing.

Then yeoman Rand shows up from somewhere on his left and hands him a PADD; he signs it without really looking. Her little schoolgirl crush is overshadowed by Spock’s radiance. From the expression on Spock’s face, it’s clear that he has no idea of the empathic powers the alien flora’s given Jim. 

Jim numbly calls, “Spock, come here for a second.” No one on the bridge says a thing about it; they’re always close, though they’ve never been quite like... _this_.

When Spock reaches him, Jim casually slides his hand to Spock’s, loose at Spock’s side, and he runs his fingers down Spock’s index and middle one, his own two held together. It’s a Vulcan caress he’s only seen a few times in his life but was careful to memorize; even if he never thought he had a chance, he’s always known the meaning of a _t’hy’la_ and that Spock was his. 

Spock responds to Jim’s touch merely by lifting an eyebrow, but a swirl of _lust_ billows off him in waves. It colours Jim’s cheeks pink and leaves him reeling. If Spock were anyone else, they’d be making love right over the captain’s chair right now. 

But Spock, stubborn, cold, _lying_ Spock is just standing there, like he’s not radiating devotion and want and desire like a cat in heat. It takes all of Jim’s Starfleet training to regain his own control, straighten his back and speak completely calmly. 

“I think you should come by my chambers for a... rousing... game of chess later.” Nothing out of the ordinary.

Spock says, “Very well, Captain,” and turns to head back to his station, hands now clasped behind his back. 

Jim _stares_ at him, wondering if the brief caress let in enough touch-telepathy for Spock to know he’s not alone. Jim exhales, but he doesn’t feel any more clear-headed. Spock lowers himself over the screen, aura nearly quivering with the passion it holds for the other half of its soul. _Jim._

Jim forces himself to look at the viewscreen and tries to concentrate instead on the newness before him, and maybe the lighter joy that is Sulu laughing at one of Chekov’s absurd Russian stories, which, apparently, he ardently believes.


End file.
